Just One Touch
by Ada15
Summary: John is a former pro football player. Randy is a bartender with a bad reputation. Randy Orton/John Cena with lots of others.
1. Small Town Gossip

This story popped into my head. I think I'm a little bit in love with John and Randy. Anyway, hope you guys like this one. I know I'm not quite finished with my other one but I'm working on it too. These wrestling stories seem to flow out of me pretty well and pretty fast.

I don't own anyone mentioned in this fic

"I'm like half an hour away," John insisted into the phone. "Just tell me you've got the place set up like you promised."

"Yeah, yeah. I've got it set," Mike's voice filtered through, exasperated. "You owe me one."

"Whatever, dude. You owe me about twenty. This just makes a dent in the favors I've yet to call in on you."

"Just get your ass here, alright? I'm not your wife."

John rolled his eyes. "But you're certainly bitchy enough."

"Ass," Mike commented before hanging up. John shook his head and dropped his phone back into the console of his car again.

There were a few bags in the backseat but most of his stuff had already been moved. He was just taking the final step. That familiar feeling of depression settled over him at the thought. He was only twenty eight. He shouldn't have to take this step yet.

His eye caught the ring still on his finger as it rested against the wheel of the car and he scowled. He took his hands off the wheel for just a second; just long enough to take the thing off and he had to forcibly shove thoughts of what he was driving away from to the back of his mind.

Xxxxxxxx

Mike was passed out on the couch when John finally made his way into the house. It was a nice place and as he'd promised, Mike did have it all set up when John arrived. It was late and John made his way upstairs. His bed was set up in his room and he dropped down on it, falling asleep almost instantly.

Xxxxxxxx

They were replaying it…_again. _John sat on the couch morosely, legs stretched out in front of him as he watched the play that had ruined his career. He saw himself lying on the field, unable to move.

"That's it," Mike's voice broke into his thoughts and John looked up to see him standing behind the couch. He hadn't even heard Mike come in. "I'm canceling ESPN."

"No you're not," John answered with a snort. "You'd never do that."

Mike sighed and walked around. He shoved John's legs out of the way so he could sit. "This what you've been doing all day?"

John shrugged. He hadn't really had much to do while Mike was at work and he hadn't wanted to venture out into town just yet. After the accident, he'd been getting recognized even more, even by people that had never watched him play a game before.

"We need to go out," Mike said. "Come on."

John hesitated. "I don't know if that's a good idea…"

"I do. You can't sit around here all day feeling sorry for yourself. Come on." There was a determined gleam in Mike's eyes, the same one he'd gotten when he'd been trying to convince John to stay with him.

"You can't stay in the house forever," Mike pointed out. He got up and grabbed John's hat from the counter, throwing it at him. "Let's go."

Xxxxxxxxx

_Michaels Bar & Grill _was printed on the sign above the door of the place Mike stopped at. The place was nice, clean and John would admit that he could use a drink. They stopped at the bar.

"I'll be right back," Mike said to him before wondering off to speak to one of the waitresses, leaving John at the bar by himself. There was only one person tending that night and after a minute, he stopped in front of John with a smile on his face.

Now, John wasn't blind and he could always appreciate beauty and he was struck instantly with the beauty of the man before him. He was tall, several inches taller than John, with tanned skin and a shaved head. The light brown shirt he had on was thin and tight enough to show off the muscles underneath. Tattoos covered his arms and John had to admit, even though he'd never been a fan of them himself, they worked for this man.

"What can I get you?" He asked, his gray eyes meeting John's blue. John saw that moment of recognition in the bartender's eyes but, thankfully, he didn't comment.

"Uh…just a beer," John answered with a smile of his own.

"Any preference?"

"Whatever's fine," John said easily. The bartender nodded and turned to get his drink. John tilted his head slightly, taking a moment to admire the way the man's jeans fit him. John glanced in Mike's direction but his friend was heavily involved in a conversation with the pretty blonde girl.

"You might want to stay clear of that end," the bartender's voice drew his attention and John met his gaze again. The guy tilted his head towards the other end of the bar, where several younger men were sitting, talking loudly.

John pulled his hat down further on his head, getting the meaning behind the words. "Thanks," he said.

"No problem."

"Randy!" Another voice called loudly. The bartender finally looked away from John and John saw as his gray eyes light up and the smile on his face widen.

"Yell if you need anything," he said to John before moving down the bar to the young man that had called to him. John watched the two men converse, the younger leaning over the bar and he had a brief moment of regret that the guy was most likely taken.

"Don't even think about it," Mike's voice called to his left and John turned his attention to his friend.

"What?"

Mike tilted his head in the direction of the two other men. "I saw the way you were looking at him."

"I can look," John said with a roll of his eyes. He'd maybe been thinking about flirting a little, just to test the field, see if the guy might swing his way or if he was already taken.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't be looking. That's Randy Orton," Mike told him with a grimace. "The guy's a total freak show."

John frowned at the words. Randy Orton seemed perfectly normal to John. He was speaking animatedly to his friend and even though John knew he'd recognized him, he hadn't said anything about it, something John was more than grateful for.

John was about to ask Mike what he meant when one of the young men down the bar caught sight of John's face.

"Oh my God! You're John Cena!" He yelled way too loudly, drawing the attention of everyone at the bar. John groaned before pasting the best fake smile he could muster on his face.

Xxxxxxxx

Randy looked up at the yell from Justin Gabriel. The college dropout and his buddies were regulars and at that moment he and his friends were gathering around the end of the bar. Randy frowned at the frozen smile that had appeared on John Cena's face.

Like anyone who had watched pro football in the last few years, Randy had recognized the man instantly. Randy could see what was about to happen and a surge of sympathy ran through him.

He'd never been able to stand Justin and his friends. They'd spread some pretty nasty rumors about Randy around town when they were still in high school. Randy had hoped that that kind of shit would have stopped after they graduated but the three boys seemed to not have grown up at all in the seven years since.

Before he knew what he was doing, Randy had opened his mouth and the words left him before he could think about it.

"Hey, Mikey! You and Heath ever get that motel room you were talking about earlier?" He asked the question loud enough for everyone at the bar to hear. McGillicutty, Slater, and Gabriel all turned their attention to him and he smirked. "You know, with the one queen sized bed?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Cody's voice was incredulous and he was staring at Randy like he was crazy. Randy shrugged. He hadn't been thinking when he said it. He rarely did around those three. He didn't back down when they approached.

"Do you want to get your ass kicked, Orton?" McGillicutty asked, scowling at him. "Because I will do it for you."

Randy rested his hands on the bar. "You can try," he countered with a glare of his own. McGillicutty made a grab for him. Their skin only made contact for a second but it was enough for Randy to _feel _the intent and anger behind his words.

Xxxxxxxxx

John watched the exchange between the three men and Orton, a little surprised. The bartenders little outburst had successfully diverted everyone's attention from him and he wondered if that had been Randy's intention and, if it was, why he would do it.

John stood without thinking. The three of them looked furious and he wasn't about to let someone get their ass kicked for him, at least not when he could stop it.

"What are you doing?"

John ignored Mike's question and stalked over, placing himself between the men.

Xxxxxxxx

Randy jerked his arm away, his own anger doubling at the force of McGillicutty's. He made another move towards Randy but suddenly there was someone else between Randy and the jackass.

John Cena stood facing the three of them, his back against the bar and Randy. He shoved the flat of his hand against McGillicutty's chest, glaring.

"I'm thinkin' maybe you three should leave," Cena said, voice hard and unwavering.

"You gonna make us?" Justin spoke up, his awe at seeing Cena in the bar completely gone.

"If I have to," Cena answered with a shrug.

Randy watched as the three men surveyed the odds. Cody was standing next to John and they'd never liked fair fights. Plus, he could see Justin dart a glance towards the back office. Shawn would kick them out if they started a fight, maybe even ban them too.

"You really are a freak, Orton," Justin called before the three of them turned and headed for the exit.

"It was nice to see you too, Justin," Randy answered brightly.

"Watch your back," was Justin's parting shot. They were gone after that and Randy relaxed a little.

"You really are an idiot, you know that," Cody said as soon as he turned back.

"Yeah, yeah." Randy turned to Cena. "Thanks for that."

Cena shrugged. "I'm pretty sure that you just diverted everyone's attention from me."

Cody studied the man a moment. "You really John Cena?"

Cena groaned, Randy laughed and he put another beer in front of the man. "On me," he said, still smiling.


	2. The Bitter Truth

Randy rubbed a hand across his forehead, closing his eyes against the headache that was building there. One good thing, he supposed, about being a small town pariah was that nobody wanted to get too close.

The day's events weren't exactly typical. Well, harassment from Justin and his friends was but it usually didn't go farther than a few verbal jabs, mostly because Justin didn't want to get on Shawn's bad side.

Randy's thoughts went to John Cena as he wiped the bar down. He'd hardly had time to thank the guy before Mike Mizanon had dragged him out of the bar. He grimaced. He'd known Mike for years too. He could imagine what Mike had told Cena…

He ran a hand over his head, working a little faster to get the placed closed up. He really needed to get home before the pressure behind his eyes built into a migraine. He figured he had about a half hour before that happened.

"You alright?" The voice broke him out of his thoughts and Randy looked up, a smile automatically forming on his face as Shawn made his way over from the back office.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm good."

Shawn studied him a moment. "Sure about that?"

Randy shrugged, chewed his bottom lip. "Just a headache."

Shawn frowned. "Alright. You can go. I'll finish this up."

Randy raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have a date?" A smirk formed on his face. Shawn had been practically bouncing off the walls all day. It was late but Randy knew Shawn probably wouldn't be getting any sleep that night.

"Not until late," Shawn answered idly but there was a gleam in his eyes. "Get out of here, Randy. I'm not dragging your ass home when you collapse."

Randy opened his mouth to protest but stopped. Shawn was right. He really did need to get home before it turned bad. "Fine. See you tomorrow."

"Mmm hmm," was Shawn's only response. Despite the headache, Randy grinned when he made it way outside and caught the man getting out of his car.

"Randy," the man said in greeting, an easy smile on his face.

"Hey, Hunter. I think he's been waiting for you," he said as he started past.

"Yeah." A smile formed on the big man's face but he still studied Randy a moment. "You need a ride home?" He asked politely.

Randy shook his head. "It's only a few blocks. See you later." He started out. The smile was still on his face as he walked home. He didn't know Hunter all that well but he seemed to make Shawn happy and Shawn was the first person, after his mom of course, that hadn't treated Randy like he was some sort of freak.

Technically, being gay in such a small town was enough to earn that label by itself but nobody gave Shawn shit for it. Despite the fact that, most of the time, Shawn was a laid back guy with good sense of humor; he could be intimidating when he wanted to be. Besides that, he'd lived in the town all of his life.

Randy's smile only widened when he thought about the last time Justin and his friends had been in the bar and the way that Shawn had made big Mason Ryan back down in fear, despite the fact that Ryan had a good four inches and at least forty pounds on Shawn.

The bigger man had been harassing Natalya and if there was one thing that Shawn wouldn't stand for it was people harassing his waitresses. Frankly, though, Randy had been surprised Natalya hadn't given the bastard a broken nose herself.

Randy was brought out of his thoughts when a car passed and the bright lights from the high beams seemed to pierce straight through his skull, making his head pound harder. He picked up his pace.

By the time he made it home, his head was beginning to pound and he was grateful for Shawn's intervention. He'd had one at work before and Shawn had found him in the corner of his office with the lights off, unable to stay out at the bar with the noise and the lights.

He kept the lights off as he kicked off his shoes and dropped down on his bed, fully clothed. It only took a few minutes for the headache to reach migraine status and after that he didn't think.

Xxxxxxxx

"What the hell is your problem?" John asked, irritated when he and Mike made it back to their place. He stripped off his jacket, hanging it just inside the door.

"Me? Dude, you've been here a day and you've already stepped into something you shouldn't have."

"What was I supposed to do?" John asked incredulously, heading for the couch. "Let someone get their ass kicked when I could stop it?"

Mike scoffed. "It wouldn't have turned into a fight. Justin wouldn't have let it get that far. The owner would have had their asses and all three of them know that."

"Still…" John paused.

Mike shook his head. "Look, Michaels place is really only place in town to get a good drink but just…stay away from Randy Orton, would you? Associating with him will only land you in some trouble you don't need."

John frowned at him. "What is with this guy? I got the feeling those three didn't need much encouragement to go after Orton."

"They wouldn't. Just trust me…Orton's bad news." Mike stood, stretched. "Now, I'm going to bed. I still gotta get up early for work tomorrow."

"Yeah." John watched him go before shaking his head and flipping on the television. He couldn't quite get his mind off the bartender, though, his pretty gray eyes and wide smile following him down into sleep.

Xxxxxxxx

John groaned as his back spasmed. He gritted his teeth and buried his face in the pillow. Mike had already left for work and had said he wouldn't be home till late. A part of John was grateful for that. He really didn't want Mike hovering around him in that moment.

"Fuck." _That hurt, _John thought as he attempted to keep still. It hurt badly enough that he considered getting up and finding the pain pills his doctor had prescribed. He wasn't sure if he _could _get up though.

Still, he tried to focus on the pain. Focusing on the pain was better than focusing on what caused it. John Cena was twenty eight years old, six feet tall, two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and officially disabled.

He couldn't help the bitter thoughts. That last year, he'd been on his way to the Super Bowl. And now, he was on his couch, face down, hardly able to move.

Xxxxxxx

"So, you almost got into it with redneck psycho again," Natalya commented.

"Again?" Trish asked.

Natalya nodded. "Justin and his friends were here last night. But, get this…somebody stepped in between them."

The two blondes were leaning on the bar as they spoke, watching Randy expectantly. They were pretty slow at that moment but that wouldn't last all night. It was Friday and as soon as five o'clock hit, they'd be slammed. Until then, however, Trish and Natalya were using the opportunity to grill Randy.

"There was no fight. Justin's not dumb enough to start one here," he told them.

"That's debatable," Trish countered. "And even if Justin's smart enough not to, I wouldn't be money that McGillicutty is." She wrinkled her nose and Randy had to smile at the expression. McGillicutty had been hitting on her since she'd started working at Shawn's.

Natalya waved that away. "That's not the point, here. The point is that John Cena stepped in between Justin and Randy and took up for Randy."

"John Cena? Who's that?" Trish asked with a frown.

Natalya stared at her a moment. "John Cena, duh. He played for the Patriots."

Trish tilted her head. "Football?" She asked, unsure.

"Yes, football. Anyway, he did before he took a nasty hit and ended up in the hospital with a messed up back. I heard he was told he couldn't play anymore because if he took another hit like that he could end up in a wheelchair."

"Wow, that sucks," Trish commented, a sympathetic pout forming on her face. Her eyes darkened too and Randy knew she wasn't thinking about John Cena in that moment.

"You alright?" He asked tentatively.

Trish shook herself. "Yeah, I'm fine." She forced a smile and changed the subject. "So, this guy took up for you, huh?" Her smile turned a little more sincere. "Maybe he likes you?"

"He doesn't even know me," Randy pointed out.

"Not yet," Natalya spoke up. "Doesn't it start with attraction, though?" She tapped her lip thoughtfully, looking him over. "Who wouldn't be attracted to you?"

"It doesn't matter, Nat," Randy said with a shrug.

"Why wouldn't it matter? You've been single for way too long. When _was _the last time you got laid?"

"He's friends with Mike," Randy revealed. "Tell me again why it would matter if he thought I was hot or not?" He paused. "Also, can we not assume that every guy who talks to me is gay or bisexual? They kind of have to talk to me to get their drinks."

"Can I assume that every guy that checks out your ass is?" Natalya started walking away. "Because he was totally doing that last night."

"Not everyone in town believes Justin's bullshit," Trish pointed out after Natalya was out of earshot. "Me, for example. Cody, Shawn, Nat…"

"Exceptions," Randy said with a small smile.

"There can be others."

"Not ones who are friends with Mike," Randy said with a shake of his head and really tried not to let his mind drift to memories he'd much rather forget forever.

"_That_ wasn't your fault."

"Tell that to Mike," Randy countered softly with a bitter smile before he moved away as the first customers of the dinner rush came in.

Xxxxxxxxx

Maybe it was the talk with Trish. Maybe it was what had happened the night before. He'd forgotten how liberating it felt to speak to someone who didn't know his history…whatever it was, it bothered him more than it usually did. The automatic wariness he saw in people's eyes whenever they approached the bar…

The bitterness he always felt when he thought of his history with Mike refused to leave and was only heightened when people came in and were looking at him like…well, like they always did. He _was _used to it and most of the time, he tried not to let it bother him but sometimes he just couldn't help it.

Xxxxxxxx

John made his way into the restaurant, going directly to the bar. Going out had been a decision he'd made because he really did need a distraction. His mood hadn't improved when the pain in his back had lessoned, with the help of a few of those pills the doctor had given him. He hated that he needed them in the first place.

Michael's was the only place he'd been to and, despite what Mike had said, he couldn't help but want to check out the bartender there again. Maybe that would be enough of a distraction.

He sat down on the stool and when Randy stepped over to him, he saw a flash of surprise in the man's eyes. As soon as their gazes met, a small smile lit Randy's face and John felt his own mood lift a little bit.

Xxxxxxxx

Randy stopped in front of John Cena, a little surprised to see the man back. When he met the man's blue eyes, however, he didn't see any of the wariness or downright hatred he'd been seeing all night and, just for that, Randy smiled a real smile for the first time since he'd spoken to Trish and Natalya.


	3. Connect

"Are you kidding me?" Randy asked with a groan, reaching over to steal a french fry from John's plate. "I hate war movies."

"Oh, come on," John said with a grin. "They're not that bad."

"They're so…so depressing," Randy stated after a moment. "Watching people get blown in half and knowing that it's based on something that actually happened is not my idea of entertainment."

"Okay, fine. So…what's your favorite movie then?"

Randy considered the question for a moment. "The Outlaw Josey Wales."

John snorted. "Because westerns are never depressing."

Randy smiled brightly. "Exactly."

John shook his head in amusement. Their conversation was interrupted once again, however when somebody called for Randy and he moved down the bar to make a drink. John glanced around the place. Most of the dinner crowd had left and John had spent the past hour sitting at the bar, talking to Randy.

After a few minutes, an older man made his way from the back out to the bar and went over to Randy. He was several inches shorter than Randy and his light brown hair reached his shoulders and John was sure that that was Shawn Michaels. Randy had mentioned the man in passing during their conversation.

John watched as Randy smiled at whatever it was that Michaels said to him before he ducked under the bar and went over to John.

"Break time?" John asked.

Randy nodded. "Come on. I need to get out of here for a few minutes."

John followed Randy back around the bar and out the backdoor. He sidestepped into an office near the door and grabbed a coat before leading John out. John had been sitting on the stool for too long and as soon as they made it outside, he bent himself backwards, trying to stretch out his still aching back.

"You alright?" Randy asked, watching him as he leaned against the wall of the building.

"Yeah," John answered. "Sometimes it just gets a little bad."

Randy nodded, eyebrows drawing together in a sympathetic frown. They had been talking for an hour but it had all been superficial. Movies, music, what there was to do in town.

"It bothers you a lot?" He asked a little tentatively.

John shrugged. "Some." He smiled wryly. "I am too young to have back problems."

Randy gave a brief smile, reaching a hand out to squeeze John's shoulder on his way past. He stopped, and sat on the small wooden bench close to the building and began searching the pockets of his jacket, finally producing a pack of cigarettes. He shrugged at John's look.

"I know, it's bad for me and I am supposed to be quitting…" He lit one anyway.

John shook his head. He leaned back against the wall near the bench and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Really not my place to judge."

"They're not going to be the thing that kills me anyway," Randy said, like he was stating a fact. His eyes darkened momentarily and he stared off into the night.

"How do you know for sure?" John asked with a frown.

Randy shook himself and then forced a smile, changed the subject. "So, why move here?"

John shrugged. "Here is not so bad."

"You like small towns?"

"I grew up in one."

Randy tilted his head to the side. "I always liked going to the city. Not everyone knows your history in the city. You're not constantly surrounded by people you've known since you were five…" He trailed off wistfully, his eyes still distant.

"Then why wouldn't you move to the city?"

Randy shrugged, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. "Shawn's here, Nat, Trish, Cody…my mom grew up here…"

"The city isn't that far. You'd still see them," John pointed out but Randy only flicked his cigarette away and stood.

"Need to get back inside." He stepped closer to John, almost in his personal space. "Thanks."

John frowned in confusion. "For what?"

Randy smiled at him before turning and starting inside. John was left staring after him. He let out a breath, shaking his head and starting around the building towards his car. The night had definitely been better than the day.

And Randy…It had been a very long time since John had clicked like that with someone so fast. They had fallen easily into the conversation, trading banter and easy smiles like they'd known each other for years.

Except, John got the distinct impression that Randy had been so easy with him because John _hadn't _known him for years. He chewed his lip as he got into his car and started the engine. He didn't immediately pull away, instead staring at the front entrance of the place for moment.

His thoughts went to Mike and his friend's belief that Randy was bad news. John had known Mike for years. They'd gone to grade school together, then Mike had moved and after he'd graduated, John had gone on to college ball but they'd kept in touch.

As far as John knew, Mike wasn't one to believe every rumor he heard or to write someone off over nothing. After all, Mike had only been fifteen when he'd moved to the town they were both currently staying in and it had been him who had insisted they stay friends, and then made it happen.

John could easily write off what the three assholes from the other night had said but Mike was a different story.

Still, he couldn't imagine the guy he'd been talking to for the past hour being the same guy that the entire town, with a few exceptions, seemed to hate.

Xxxxxxxxx

It was much easier to get through the rest of the night after John had left. He bore twin looks of disdain in the eyes of twins Nikki and Brie Bella with a smile as he served them their drinks. Trish made her way past, tray in hand. Randy saw it coming long before the other two girls did. Trish tripped just as she was about to pass them and the picture of beer 'accidently' toppled off, soaking Nikki's red shirt.

"Oh my! I'm so sorry!" Trish exclaimed, a false apology in her expression and her voice.

"Bitch!" Nikki yelled, standing and staring down at herself.

"I said I was sorry," Trish said. She looked Nikki over. "I'm sure you can afford another one."

"I'm going to kill you!" Nikki's eyes were blazing.

"You're going to pay for that," Brie spoke up with a glare of her own, pulling her sister towards the bathroom.

Trish dropped her tray in front of Randy. "I need another picture."

"What the hell was that?" He asked, unmoving.

"What? It was an accident." Trish widened her eyes in an attempt to look innocent.

"Uh huh." Randy studied her a moment. "Those two come in here all the time and you've never dumped beer on them before."

Trish sighed and pressed her lips together. "Doesn't mean I haven't wanted to."

"Maybe…but you've never done it." Randy rested his elbows on the bar, leaned closer to her. "You're usually a lot better at controlling your temper…what exactly did they say that pushed you to do it?"

"I really need to clean this up." Trish started to turn away but Randy reached for her, closing his hand around hers. He had to blink away the image that automatically formed when his fingers made contact with her bare skin.

"Trish…" He raised an eyebrow and she sighed again.

"They were talking about you, alright? Before you went to take their order, they were talking about you," she admitted reluctantly.

Randy ran a hand over his forehead. "What exactly did they say?" He asked tiredly, unsure if he even wanted to hear the answer.

"It doesn't matter. It's just Justin and the stupid rumors that he started…"

"What did they say?" He pressed because Trish had heard the rumors before and she knew the real story behind them. She was one of the few people who did, one of the few that he had told it too and had actually believed him.

"It doesn't matter," Trish said, sadness in her eyes. "I'm sorry." She tilted her head to the side, towards where John had been sitting earlier. "I didn't want to ruin your night."

"Its fine," Randy said with a shrug. "I'm used to it." He squeezed her hand lightly before letting go. "People are gonna talk."

Xxxxxxxxx

Trish watched Randy turn back to make her another picture, the frown still on her face. She wished that she hadn't done it. If she hadn't, he wouldn't have known what Nikki and Brie had been talking about and she felt bad about bringing him down again, especially after she'd seen the genuine smile on his face after he'd spoken to John Cena.

It was rare, seeing him smile like that.

She hadn't been able to help herself, though. She could usually shrug off whatever the twins said about her but she'd walked by them at just the wrong moment, heard the world _murderer _leave Nikki's mouth and she'd lost control of her temper. She had a very long fuse, had to in this town, but it had burned out completely when she'd heard that.

And she hated Nikki and Brie because they were just being spiteful and they had no idea what they were talking about. She hated Justin for inciting those kinds of rumors about Randy. She hated Mike for not believing Randy when he'd told him the truth.


	4. Memories

"So," Trish started, attempting to change the subject. "You give him your number?"

"No." Randy turned back to her, set down the picture of beer. "And I'm not going to."

"Why not?"

"You know why," Randy replied, staring into her eyes, pain dancing in his.

And Trish did know his reasons. She knew everything. She'd been there after.

_"I can't get it off!" The cry came from the man huddled on the bathroom floor just before he literally began scratching at his own skin. _

_She reached out, grabbing his hands, trying to get him to stop. "There's nothing there, honey." _

_"It's s-still there. B-blood. Under my fingernails, s-soaked into my skin. I can feel it!" _

_And the skin on his hands was raw, red. He'd been scrubbing at them nonstop since it happened. She had to blink back tears at the look in his eyes and she pulled him close, into her arms. _

_He was silent after that, and the only thing that told her he was crying was the wetness on her shirt as he buried his head in her shoulder. _

Trish shook her head, trying to shake away the direction her thoughts had taken. "It won't turn out like it did with-"

"Trish." There was warning in Randy's voice, anger, as he cut her off before she could say the name. Even Justin never said that name.

"I believed you," Trish pressed on sadly.

_"I should have been able to stop it from happening, Trish. I saw it." _

"Don't you have orders?" Randy asked, his expression closed off.

"Yeah." Trish chewed her lip. "I guess I do."

Xxxxxxxx

Justin was already at the bar when Randy finally noticed him. He was glaring, gripping the edge when Randy stopped in front of him.

"What do you want?" He asked, tiredly. He'd been hoping that the little scene the other night would at least keep Justin away for a few days.

"You think what happened the other night was funny?" Justin asked in a fierce, but low, voice.

Randy's eyes narrowed and he leaned just a little closer to Justin. It figured the little shit was still pissed about that. He'd never liked losing the upper hand, especially with Randy.

"Maybe," Randy answered lightly with a shrug. "I always knew you didn't like fair fights. Gotta have a few guys twice your size backing you, don't you?"

"I'd take you on myself, Orton," Justin said with a scowl.

"And you'd lose." Randy stated it like it was fact and, well, it _was_. Justin had already tried that once. All it had gained him was a broken nose.

"I guess you've got John Cena backing you now." Justin tilted his head, his expression unchanging. "Though, I doubt that'd be the case if he knew what you are."

"Go home, Justin," Randy said, with a shake of his head. "You're not going to do anything without your lackeys behind you."

"You think Cena's going to take an interest in _you_?" Justin paused, lowered his voice even further. "Like Adam did?"

Randy froze at the name and Justin smirked.

"Wonder what Cena would say if he knew just what you did to Adam-"

Without even thinking about it, Randy had reached over the bar, grabbing Justin by the collar and bringing their faces close. His gray eyes were blazing with anger and his voice came out in a low, angry growl.

"Keep talking, Gabriel, and I'll break something more vital than your nose." He shoved Justin back again, only then noticing the attention he had drawn. It was late, almost closing time but there were still a few people there.

"You're going to regret that, Orton," was Justin's parting shot before he turned and left.

Xxxxxxxxx

"Here." Shawn offered the bottle of beer, which Randy took after a moment, before he sat down in Shawn's small office. Shawn sat across from him, a frown of concern on his face.

"What happened?"

Randy shrugged, picked at the label on the bottle. "Gabriel. Should I have to say anything else?"

"Uh huh. You usually don't let him get to you so badly," Shawn pointed out.

Randy sighed, leaned back in his chair. "He was talking about Adam," he admitted quietly.

_"I love you…you know?" _

_"I know…love you too." _

Shawn nodded, sympathy in his eyes. "Kid's an idiot. You shouldn't let him get to you. You know the truth. I'm sure Adam does, wherever he is…"

Randy shook his head. "Never told him. I should have. If I had, maybe…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, unable to put a voice to the guilt he'd been carrying around for years.

_"Randy, come on. I know you haven't been sleeping. I know something's wrong. Tell me what it is." _

"You can't play the what if game, Randy."

Randy only nodded in response but he was really only humoring Shawn. Saying it was one thing but he couldn't help the direction his thoughts always took when he thought about that time. He couldn't help but to hear Adam's phantom voice, haunting him even after so long.

Xxxxxxxxx

John may have been brooding a little bit when Mike came home but at least this time it wasn't about his football career. No, his mind was still firmly in the bar, still with Randy Orton.

"What's up?" Mike asked, going to the fridge and grabbing something to drink before dropping down on the couch next to John.

"I went back to that bar," John blurted out and watched as Mike stiffened.

"And talked to Orton?" He guessed.

John nodded. "He didn't seem so bad."

"Well, he is," Mike said stiffly, anger in his expression.

"Why?" John pressed, sitting up fully and leaning towards his friend. "What'd he do to get you so pissed off at him?"

Mike sighed, dropped his head back. "Can't you just trust me when I say that he's not a good guy?"

"It'd be easier if you told me why you think that," John said with a shrug.

Mike looked over at him and his eyes narrowed. "You like him, don't you?" John shrugged, didn't answer but knew that Mike could see it in his eyes.

"Fine." He paused and opened his mouth to tell the story. "I used to friends with Orton back in high school…"

Xxxxxxxxx

Randy and Trish were the last ones out of Shawn's place that night. Shawn had offered to let him go early but Randy had declined. He doubted he'd be able to sleep anyway and he'd rather have something to do to occupy himself.

"See you tomorrow," Randy said to her.

She nodded. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," he insisted, sounding convincing enough that even he almost believed it. Trish nodded and reluctantly went to her car. Randy waited until she had safely driven away before starting his walk home.

Trish had offered to give him a ride but, after a little convincing, he'd told her he'd be okay walking. He really needed to clear his head anyway.

He was almost out of the parking lot when something hit him over the back of the head and he went down, landing on his hands and knees, a blinding pain shooting through his skull. Then one thick arm was pulling him to his feet and there was only one person Randy knew that was that tall and that big.

Before he could react, he was being dragged into the alley between Shawn's bar and the apartment building next door.

Xxxxxxx

When John found Randy, he'd been walking, turning the story Mike had told over and over in his mind. He'd tried to sleep but couldn't and ended up leaving again. He'd come close to Michaels place again. It was late, late enough that the place had closed. Late enough that everyone was probably at home asleep. He should have been too.

Mike's story was unreal but apparently most of the town believed it. He was walking in front of the bar when Randy stumbled out from the side of it. John stopped short, stared. Randy had fallen to his knees and John watched as he spit blood on the pavement.

Mike's story still ringing in his ears, John moved closer as Randy struggled to his feet once again, swaying where he stood. John reached out to steady him and didn't miss the flinch that Randy gave.

"You alright?" John asked tentatively because even if he might believe Mike's story, he couldn't leave someone injured and alone on the street.

Randy met his gaze and John noted that one of his eyes was swollen almost shut, that he had a bruise forming on his cheekbone, that he had one arm wrapped protectively around his ribcage.

"John?" He asked, squinting with his good eye, his words coming out a little slurred. John winced when the movement of his lips caused even more blood to leak from the split and he winced for the fact that they had, somehow during their hour long conversation, gotten to first name basis.

And despite what Mike had told him, the concern did well up as he took in Randy's condition. He took Randy's weight when his knees gave out on him without hesitation.


	5. Adam

The apartment was small but clean. A small television, along with a bookshelf was pushed against one side, a couch on the other with a wooden coffee table in front. John helped him over to the couch. A bar separated the living room area from a tiny kitchen and the door off the side of the refrigerator was open and John could see Randy's bed.

Randy had hardly spoken on the trek there, except to refuse a trip to the hospital. Now, John didn't speak, he simply sat Randy down before making his way into the bedroom and through another door to the right of the bed that was the bathroom.

The bathroom was even smaller than the kitchen, although just as tidy as the rest of the place. It was definitely too small for the both of them to fit in while John did what he needed so he left Randy in the living room instead and opened the cabinet over the sink to find what he needed.

It wasn't how John had pictured, when they'd talked earlier, taking Randy home but he couldn't have left Randy alone, not when he was injured like he was and he couldn't take Randy back to his place, not with Mike there.

When John came back into the room, supplies in hand, Randy was leaning forward on the couch, elbows on his knees and staring at his hands. His knuckles were bloody too and John knew that he hadn't gone down without one hell of a fight.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" John asked, his voice coming out flat, guarded. He sat on the coffee table in front of Randy, close to him and Randy sat up straighter, putting more space between them.

"I'm being punished, apparently." Randy ran the thumb of his left hand lightly over the dried blood on his right.

"You fought back," John pointed out. He took hold of Randy's right hand, turning it so he could clean the blood off with the wet towel he had brought with him. Randy didn't make a sound during. Not while John was cleaning the blood off, not while he gently smoothed some triple antibiotic cream over the split knuckles.

"Can't help it with them." There was a blank look in Randy's gray eyes as he said the words, as he met John's gaze.

"Them? You mean Justin Gabriel and his friends?" John asked with a raised eyebrow, reaching up with the cloth to clean the blood from Randy's chin.

Randy flinched but not from the pressure John put on his wound but from the name. "Been talking to somebody?"

"Yeah…"

_"We were all friends. Me, Orton and Justin Gabriel. He's the smallest of those guys you stepped in front of the other night. There was another one. Adam. We used to hang out all the time but Adam and Randy were close…Closer than any of the rest of us…" _

"I talked to Mike," John admitted after a moment, settling his hands in his lap.

_"They were together…you know. Nobody knew about it. You know how high school kids are, man, especially in a small town like this. They would have been ostracized. I found out, though, about a month before…"_

"Then why are you here?" Randy asked with a sigh, leaning even further from John.

"Because I couldn't just leave you alone like that. Besides, I…" He trailed off, unsure. He'd been hoping that it wasn't true. That what Mike had told him wasn't true.

_"When the cops got there, they found Randy beside him, covered in Adam's blood. I talked to him before and after, John. He knew details…details about how it had happened, what had happened to Adam even though he claimed that he'd only gotten there after Adam was already gone…" _

"This guy that everyone thinks you killed…Adam?"

Randy flinched again and the blank look left his eyes, replaced by a fire of rage. "Get out," he growled, pushing John's hands away from him.

John blinked, surprised. "Randy-"

Randy stood abruptly, his injuries seemingly forgotten for that moment and walked to his door, jerking it open. "Get. Out." He repeated with a glare.

John sighed and stood, walking over. Randy refused to meet his gaze when they got close but John could clearly see him blinking back tears.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, without thinking because Randy looked so miserable in that moment and, in that instant, John couldn't believe what Mike believed, what Gabriel and his friends so obviously believed.

Some of the anger died in Randy's eyes and John heard a quiet 'thank you' before the door was shut in his face. He stood there, outside Randy's door for several minutes, before finally turning and walking away.

Xxxxxxxx

Randy slid down the door, to the floor, after John had left, the memories nearly consuming him. He couldn't escape them.

_He fell to his knees next to Adam, not noticing, or caring, when the blood soaked into his jeans. He leaned forward, put his hands out. Adam's chest was a bloody mess. And he'd seen this before. Seen it happen. Why hadn't he said anything?_

The good memories intermingled with the bad. The good memories that he'd tried so hard to hold onto after. For months after he'd found Adam, all he'd seen was the man's blank eyes staring up at him, all he'd seen was the blood pooling beneath his body.

Despite what most of the town believed, Randy had never been charged with anything. He'd been at the hospital with his mom, with plenty of witnesses, at the time someone had come into Adam's home and done that to him…

Still, he'd known details about what had happened, details confirmed by the cops after their investigation, details he'd told Mike during the time after when he'd been out of it with shock and grief.

Mike hadn't believed him when Randy had told him how he'd known it. Randy had been so sure he would. He and Mike were good friends before but the only one of his friends from before that had believed him had been Trish.

He'd loved Adam, had never been able to imagine hurting him so the fact that Mike actually believed he could do it…that he could use a knife to…

Randy shook his head and forced his legs to work. When he got to his room, he grabbed his headphones, hooked them into his stereo and turned the music up almost loud enough to blow out his eardrums, willing it to block out the memories.

Xxxxxxxx

John lay in bed, unable to sleep. Mike's story kept playing over and over in his head, the look in Randy's eyes just before he'd left the man's apartment kept flashing behind his closed eyelids. It didn't match up.

Maybe he just didn't want to believe but the look in Randy's eyes didn't match with the look he'd imagined from someone who'd be capable of stabbing another person nine times, especially a person he had loved.

Mike had said that he believed the reason Randy had done it was because Adam had wanted to take their relationship public, had been tired of the secrecy. It was such a stupid reason, John thought, to commit murder, a reason he couldn't hold onto, couldn't put on Randy.

But John had been around the world and back and he knew that there were people that were capable of anything.

He imagined the conversation he'd had with Randy at the bar. He remembered Randy stealing food from his plate, grinning at him so brightly. He remembered Randy leaning on the bar, gray eyes sparkling with amusement as John professed his love of rap music and war movies.

He just couldn't believe the guy was capable of murder, didn't want to believe the guy he had connected with so quickly and so profoundly had taken a knife to his high school boyfriend.

Xxxxxxxx

His face was a mess. A swollen, puffy, bruised, mess. Randy had already called into work. He didn't need Trish, Cody, or Shawn to see his face.

He lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He'd been doing that all night, unable to sleep after John had left. Any thoughts he'd had about maybe starting something with John had been wiped completely from his mind. He was reminded again that he couldn't possibly have something like that again.

Maybe he should have accepted it. Accepted the fact that high school really had been the best years of his life and that he couldn't ever get any of that happiness back. Even the tiny apartment he'd been living in the past several years was a testament to that fact.

His mom had left him her house but he'd been unable to stay there after she died. Unable to stay in a place that she had made her own, in a bed that he and Adam had spent countless nights together during the year and a half they'd been together.

They'd planned on moving to the city. Adam had wanted to go to college there but of course they'd never made it. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Randy closed his eyes, squeezed them shut, the reminders of what he'd lost that night almost too much to bare.

Randy pulled his pillow over his face with a groan when he heard his door unlock and someone step inside. He felt the bed dip beside him and already knew who it was. There were only two people who had keys to his apartment and Cody was the only one who came in without at least knocking first.

Cody stayed with him a lot. He and his girlfriend seemed to have a blowout at least once a month and Cody would sleep on his couch for a night or two before going back to make up with her. Randy had been mildly surprised that Cody continued to stay in such an explosive relationship.

"Hey, buddy," Cody said brightly, reaching over and pulling the pillow out of his hands. As soon as he saw Randy's face, a frown of concern crossed his. "What happened?"

Xxxxxxxx

Rocking on his heels, Justin scrubbed at his hands. There was blood on them again. Orton's blood. He hardly noticed the cut over his eyebrow, where Randy had gotten a shot in of his own.

Blood stained. Even after scrubbing his hands for hours, he could still see it; still see the red tinge to his hands. _Blood always stains. _He'd learned that a long time ago. His hands shook for a moment before he steadied them, banished the memories.

It was Randy's fault. All of it was Randy's fault. He held steadfastly to that belief even as he scrubbed his hands raw.


	6. Guilty Until Proven Innocent

_Randy wasn't fighting back. Justin had caught him on the football field the night after graduation. It was dark out and the attack had caught him off guard. And he just didn't have it in him to fight back. The horror, guilt, and pain were still there, so strong that he was hardly able to breathe at times. _

_The hits came hard and fast and, God, when had Justin learned to hit so hard? His thoughts turned hazy after a particularly vicious kick to the skull. Justin was screaming at him even after the hits stopped. _

_He rolled onto his back. His vision was a little blurred but he could still see Justin. He was standing over Randy still, breathing hard. He abruptly dropped down next to him, leaned close, gripped one bloodied hand in Randy's shirt. And he was crying. _

_The last time Randy had seen Justin cry, they'd been ten. _

_He was still speaking, still accusing. Mike's name passed his lips and Adam's and after that, Randy couldn't listen. His hearing seemed to stop working altogether as he recognized the look in Justin's eyes. _

_His boyfriend was dead and his best friend hated him. And he wished that Justin hadn't stopped. He wouldn't have fought back then if he could._

Xxxxxx

"What the hell happened?" Cody repeated angrily when all he got out of Randy was a sigh.

"What do you think?" Randy asked, sitting against the headboard and letting out a weary sigh.

"_Assholes._" Cody's dark blue eyes were blazing. "Maybe I could get Justin alone…"

"No." Randy stood. "You're going to leave it alone," he said on his way out of the room. Cody followed.

"Leave it alone? This shit shouldn't be happening. You shouldn't let it stand." Cody paused, grabbed Randy's arm to stop him. "I can't."

"Yes you can. I'm telling you to." Randy pulled away from him and dropped down on his couch.

"Look, I know why you've never done anything about it but its bullshit, He's not right."

Randy rested his head back, stared up at the ceiling. "We were friends…"

"_Were,_" Cody stressed.

"He thinks I killed one of his friends," Randy pointed out, his tone hollow.

Cody blinked, surprised. Randy never talked about it. Cody hadn't been there when it had all gone down. He'd moved to town after he'd graduated high school and he'd met Trish first, then Randy. He'd believed her when she'd told him that Randy was innocent. He couldn't imagine her sticking with him if he wasn't.

Cody had never had a lot of friends but he'd made a connection with both Trish and Randy quickly and it had lasted. He hadn't been in town when the stuff between Randy and Justin and gone down but he hated the guy anyway. He'd seen Justin cause both Trish and Randy pain too many times.

"But he's wrong," Cody insisted.

"Still could've stopped it."

Cody sighed. He'd heard Randy say that before but he had no idea what it meant. He'd heard the story from Trish. Adam had been long dead by the time Randy had found him.

"He was your friend," Cody said, repeating Randy's point. "He should never have believed it."

Randy was still for a moment. "Sometimes I hate him for it," he admitted quietly. "I've known Justin for fifteen years. I thought he knew me better…"

"He should have. I'm sorry," Cody commented, sympathy shining in his eyes.

"Yeah." Randy went back to staring at the ceiling and after a moment; Cody moved to sit beside him.

Xxxxxxxxx

Trish found him in the back booth the tiny little diner. He jerked in surprise when she slid in across from him and placed her hands on the table, a glare on her face. Cody had called her an hour ago and she had been pissed since.

"Trish…"

"Hi, Justin." Her tone was barely controlled as she surveyed him, noted the band aid over his right eyebrow. "I hear you've been busy."

"Can't you go bug someone else?" He asked going back to his food.

"Can't you?" Trish countered. "You're a real asshole, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm the bad guy. I'm the villain in the story of Randy Orton's life. I've heard it all before, Trish. You need to go."

"I can't. Not after what you did. Not after everything you've done since high school." Trish leaned closer to him. "He didn't do anything to be punished like this."

"I know you believe that-"

"You should. You should have believed it. You guys were _best friends, _Justin."

_"_That was before_,_" Justin said with a scowl on his face.

"I know. I was there when you guys promised to keep in touch after high school. For God's sake, you've known Randy since grade school. He was your first friend after you moved here." She reached across the table for his wrist when it seemed like he was about to bolt. "How could you believe it?"

Trish had known how hard it had been for Justin as a child, moving from another country after his father had died. She knew Randy had made that easier on him. They had formed a friendship almost immediately that had lasted all through school.

"And you've never considered you might be wrong? Never considered that he might have-"

"No," she cut him off. "Have you ever considered that_ you_ might be wrong?"

"I can't," Justin said, quietly, firmly. He pulled his wrist from her grip and then got up.

Xxxxxxx

"He's not here."

John turned to the person who had spoke, taking in the pretty blonde waitress. He'd seen her in Michaels bar the last time he'd come in and he raised an eyebrow.

"Who?" He asked warily, wondered if he was going to get an earful about how he should stay away, about what Mike had told him.

"Randy," she said, the 'duh' in her voice obvious. "He called in. I'm sure you know why."

"Okay…" John turned back to his beer but could see her surveying him out of the corner of his eye. "What?"

"I'm sure you've heard the story by now. I know you live with Mike." She paused, tilted her head. "Randy's my best friend. My brother in everything but blood."

John turned his attention to her again. "And why are you telling me this?"

"Because he likes you and because it's been a while since I've seen him relax around anyone that wasn't me, Shawn, or Cody. Whatever Mike said, he's-"

"Careful," John cut her off. "Mike's _my _best friend. He was just trying to let me know the truth." Even if he wasn't entirely sure that it was.

"The truth?" She stepped even closer to him, leaned against the bar. When she spoke next, it was softly enough that he would be the only one to hear. "The truth is that Randy was in the hospital with his mother when it happened. The truth is that despite that fact and the fact that Mike and Justin were Randy's closest friends, they decided to believe something that was a lie. He lost his boyfriend and then his mother barely six months after that and _Mike _abandoned him. Worse, he accused him of things that he wouldn't have ever done."

"And you know that for sure?" John asked with a scowl, mostly for the words against Mike, who was his best friend.

"I know Randy," she stated simply.

"And I know Mike," John countered. "He wouldn't lie. Not to me."

"Mike believes it. To him, it's not a lie." She combed her fingers through her hair and her eyes narrowed. "I get that he's your friend and you want to defend him but…Randy likes you and I don't want to see another person running him down for something he didn't do."

"I'm not going to harass him," John said, affronted.

"Don't because he's innocent." She let out a sigh and straightened up. "This whole town believed the rumors spread by children. Guilty until proven innocent and not the other way around here. Even when Randy was proven innocent, they still called him guilty."

She paused again and pushed off the bar. "Think about it, would you?" She turned on her heel, then and went back to her tables.

John watched her go with a frown on his face.

Xxxxxxxx

John fidgeted uncomfortably after knocking on the door, second guessing himself once again. After his last departure from this place, it probably wasn't the smartest idea to come back but he'd found himself there anyway.

The girl from the bar, he hadn't gotten her name, had he? Her words kept replaying over and over in his head. When the door opened, he was met with surprised gray eyes. John's eyes, however, were immediately drawn to the bruises on Randy's face.

"Hey," John said lamely.

"What are you doing here?" Randy asked, cautiously.

"I was in the neighborhood?" John said, a little bit of a question in his voice.

Randy's lips twitched in an almost smile and he opened the door wider, a silent invitation. John stepped inside.


	7. Justin

Okay, so there is a little sex in this chapter but it's not too explicit. There is a policy against NC-17 stories on this site and I'm not too terribly sure where the line between M and NC-17 in stories like this is.

Xxxxxxxx

Randy paced his living room, back and forth. He chewed on his thumbnail and tried to ignore the pain in his head, left over from what he'd seen. Thankfully, Cody had left before it had happened.

His nerves were fried and he was so very tired of the entire town. He was tired of being reminded constantly of the worst night of his life. He was tired of people not believing him. He was tired of seeing Justin everywhere he went.

He couldn't seem to ground himself. Couldn't get his mind off it and back in the present. He needed…Hell, he wasn't even sure but he knew he needed something.

He was about ready to come out of his skin when John knocked on his door.

Xxxxxxxx

They stood about a foot from each other in Randy's small living room.

"What are you doing here?" Randy asked again, the look in his eyes one that John couldn't decipher.

"I just…wanted to let you know…" He paused, ran a hand over his head. "I wanted to let you know that I don't believe what Mike said." He only realized the words were the one hundred percent truth when they left his mouth but they were.

"You don't?" Randy moved closer to him, almost in his personal space.

"No, I don't." John's voice was firm, and he made sure there was no doubt in it. After spending time with Randy, after talking to the girl at the bar, he did believe her words.

"Good." Randy stepped fully into his personal space. He brought a hand up to the back of John's neck and suddenly John had another set of lips on his own. The kiss was fierce, fast, and it didn't take John long to respond to it.

John opened his mouth, gripped Randy's hips. Randy's fingers looped into his belt and he was being pulled towards the bedroom even as his belt was being undone. It was hard to think with Randy's tongue in his mouth and one hand gripping his belt while the other roamed along his chest.

It wasn't as if John had never done this before and it wasn't as if he hadn't thought about it since meeting Randy. He had thought about it. A lot. But too rapidly their first kiss was turning into other firsts.

"I don't think…" John started when Randy moved his lips from John's too his neck.

Randy pulled off his shirt, threw it aside. "You don't want this?" He asked before trailing his tongue along John's neck.

Randy pulled away. He worked on his own pants as he fell back on the bed before he stared up at John. The sight alone was enough to wipe any protests from John's mind. Randy was stretched out on the bed, shirt off, buttons undone on his jeans and biting his bottom lip as he stared up at John.

He sat up and grabbed John's hands, pulling him down. "I need this," he said quietly. "I need you."

John was on top of Randy then and after that, everything went even faster. Soon, Randy's legs were wrapped around John's waist and John was buried deep inside of him. And John was treated to one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. Randy, naked, back arched, and head thrown back as John moved inside of him.

He didn't have time to regret it as he got lost in touch, in the sounds Randy was making, as he got lost inside Randy.

Xxxxxxxxx

Randy woke with his head pounding and the images from his dream still at the forefront of his mind. He took a moment to breathe through the pain that had formed behind his eyes before he opened them slowly.

There was a heavy arm around his waist. John was sleeping peacefully beside him and the events of the night before came back as well. He'd had dreams like this before. Dreams like what had happened last night.

He'd been desperate and edgy when John had knocked on his door. For just a moment, he wondered what John would think about him when he woke. They hadn't even kissed before last night and he had pulled John into bed with him. John hadn't protested too much but still…

He'd had one night stands before. The entire town hated him. Nobody was ever willing to get to close to him and seven years was a long time. He'd had a few of them when he'd traveled into the city on occasion.

Is that what it would be? Maybe that's what it would be for John. But John had taken the time to talk to him in the bar, had taken the time help him after he'd been jumped, had taken the time to come over just to tell him that he believed his innocence.

That, more than anything, was what had made him pull John to him. He'd spent so much time with people looking at him like he was some kind of monster…John had no reason to believe him. He didn't know Randy the way that Trish, Cody, or Shawn did but he still believed it.

Randy was brought out of his thoughts when the pounding in his head intensified to almost unbearable levels. He rolled over on his side, dislodging John's arm and waking the man up. Randy hardly noticed.

He curled into a fetal position, wrapped one arm protectively around his head as the images and the agony came fast and hard. He saw familiar dark eyes, this time filed with both fear and pain. Then there was blood. Too much of it.

"Randy! Randy, what's wrong?"

His hearing came back and he had to choke back nausea. "Not so loud, please," he managed to get out, cracking his eyes open. He hadn't noticed John moving but the man was kneeling on the floor on Randy's side of the bed, the concern in his eyes clear.

"What the hell just happened?" John asked.

"Migraine," Randy answered with a wince, squeezing his eyes shut.

"They always come on that fast?" John's voice was still concerned and one of his hands hovered over Randy's shoulder, like he was afraid to touch him.

"Woke up with it," Randy said, avoiding the truth in that moment. It wasn't as if he could actually tell John. Besides Trish, nobody had ever believed him.

"Anything I can do?" John's voice had gone quiet, barely a whisper and despite the pain in his head, a small smile formed on Randy's face.

"Stay?"

"Sure." John got back into bed and wrapped himself around Randy from behind. Randy kept his eyes closed. The pain had lessoned enough that he could at least try and analyze what he'd seen. He knew who he'd seen; he just had to figure out when and where it would happen.

Xxxxxxxx

John wasn't entirely sure how it had happened. All he knew was that it had happened faster and a lot more abruptly than it probably should have. He'd had one night stands before but they had all been just that—_one night stands. _

He was usually given to sleeping with someone on the first date, at least not with someone he actually liked and could picture something long lasting with. He and Randy hadn't even technically gone out on a date, unless the talk in the bar or him dragging an injured Randy back to his apartment counted, which probably didn't.

Generally, though, John would have at least gone out on a date, maybe even gotten to first base by then. So, they'd skipped over a few-all-of the steps. He'd stayed because generally sex right off the bat meant it was probably a onetime thing and he didn't want Randy thinking that it could be for him.

He liked Randy and he was sure that there were other people who had skipped over all those steps before. And, hey, even if it had been a little soon, the sex had been absolutely stellar in his book.

Mike was going too _pissed_.

Still, as soon as the headache passed for Randy, he made his thoughts known. "We should go out on a date."

Randy smiled brightly in return.

xxxxxxxx

_"I think my mom hates me." The words finally left Justin's mouth as he caught the ball. He held it a moment, running his hands over it before bounced it back to Randy, who took another shot for the hoop. _

_"She doesn't hate you." The automatic protest came from Randy a second later. Justin retrieved the ball again and dribbled it slowly, moving to stand beside Randy before taking a shot of his own. _

_"She doesn't even want me around anymore." _

_"You look too much like your dad," Randy said a little tentatively, a frown on his face. _

_"Yeah." Justin went after the ball again. He threw it to Randy, maybe with a little bit more force than necessary. "We gonna play?" _

_Xxxxxxx_

_Justin watched Randy worriedly. He was pacing, chewing on his fingernail, a frown on his face. Justin's legs twitched, like they wanted to join Randy in his restlessness. _

_"It's bad," Randy said after a moment. He tucked his free hand under the opposite arm, Justin suspected to keep it from shaking. _

_"How bad?" Justin asked, chewing his lip. _

_"She's really sick…" There was fear shining in his gray eyes when he turned them on Justin and he swallowed. He'd spent most of his childhood in the house, with the family. _

_"You haven't told anyone else?" Justin asked because he was the only one there. _

_Randy shook his head, resumed the pacing. _

_"Not even Adam?" _

_"Just you. I figured you should know…" First is what he hears unspoken. Randy's mom had basically adopted him when he and Randy had become friends. His own mother had barely been able to look at him after his father's death. _

_"She'll be alright," Justin said, tried to sound reassuring. _

_"Yeah." But Randy didn't sound like he believed it. _

_Xxxxxxxxx_

_"Where's Randy?" Justin asked Mike immediately, running his hand through his already messy hair repeatedly, the worry, horror making themselves known in his eyes. _

_"I don't know," Mike answered voice hard with a look in his eyes that Justin didn't have the energy to decipher. _

_"I gotta find him," Justin said, urgency in his voice. This was going to kill Randy, on top of his mom being sick…_

_"You need to listen first. I know who killed Adam." The words were firm. _

_"Who?" Because he'd kill them. Adam had been the third person, after Randy and Trish, that had made friends with him after he'd moved._

_"It was Randy," Mike blurted out. _

_Justin scowled at him. "Is that a joke? Or are you just an idiot?" Justin started to turn away from him but Mike grabbed his arm, stopping him. _

_"Listen to me. I already talked to Randy. He described what happened to Adam down, knew what had happened even though he claimed that he made it there after. The cops are saying that it had to of been someone Adam knew that did it. Said that nobody broke into his house and that someone got close enough to surprise him with it, caught him by surprise enough that he didn't even get to fight back…" _

_"Randy loved him…you're crazy…" _

_But Mike wasn't finished. He kept talking, kept talking about the conversation he'd had with Randy earlier, about what he'd found out from the cops. _

_Xxxxxxx_

_Justin found Randy on the football field. It wasn't so much a surprise, mainly because he knew that Randy and Adam had come out there after dark sometimes. Adam had been crazy about football, planned on playing in college. _

_Justin was practically vibrating with rage. He was pissed at the cops for suspecting Randy, pissed at Mike for the same thing, and pissed at himself for the tiny bit of doubt that Mike had put in his head._

_He was just so fucking angry. _

_Randy turned towards him when he walked up. "They're saying you did this," Justin blurted out right off the bat, still not believing. _

_Then, in that moment, he saw something that he hadn't been expecting, that had absolutely floored him. Randy's eyes flicked away from his and he hunched in on himself. Justin recognized the posture and the look in Randy's eyes instantly. _

_Guilt. _

_Before he knew what he was doing, Justin had lurched forward and his fist connected with Randy's face. _

_Xxxxxxxx_

Even in such a small town, there was still crime. There was crime everywhere. There just wasn't as much where they lived. Still, Justin managed to stumble into it. He was halfway drunk, stumbling home through an alley when he found himself face to face with a gun and a guy demanding his wallet. And, fuck, he'd thought these kinds of muggings only happened in the city.

Only, well, Justin only had about fifteen bucks in his wallet and he didn't have any credit cards. The guy was pissed and Justin had always been a little bit too stupid when he was drunk. If it wasn't for the person that turned into the opposite side of the alley, or for the flying tackle he landed on the guy, Justin was pretty sure he might have died then and there.

Justin pressed himself against the alley wall, staring with wide eyes as Randy fought the man. The gun had been thrown when Randy tackled it and without it, he wasn't much of a challenge. He was a skinny little guy at least eight inches shorter than Randy. Still he managed a kick and then he was running. Randy didn't chase him.

Justin's legs gave out on him a second later but his eyes were still wide as Randy sat up, faced him.

"You alright?" Randy asked, standing and going over to him, probably intending to check him for injuries but Justin shoved him away.

"What the hell?" He asked because he couldn't say anything else.

Randy's eyes narrowed. "You could say thank you, Gabriel."

Justin almost flinched at the use of his last name. "You…" He trailed off because he couldn't say it. Couldn't admit out loud that Randy may have just saved his life and put himself in danger in the process.

"How did you…how did you get here?" Justin barely choked the words out.

Randy dropped back down, so that he was level with Justin. He looked tired all the sudden. "I saw it," he admitted quietly.

"You saw it," Justin repeated with a hysterical little laugh. They had both seemed to have forgotten what had just almost happened and that they were sitting on the ground in an alley.

"I tried to tell you…before. I tried but you wouldn't listen." He paused. "That guy was gonna kill you, Justin."

"You're lying." Because he had to be. Justin couldn't admit, even to himself, that he might not be.

Randy scrubbed a hand across his face. "I shouldn't have to justify myself to you. You should have known. I was in the hospital with Mom when it happened but I saw it…I just thought it was a dream…"

Justin closed his eyes and deliberately banged his head against the wall. "I can't listen to this."

He heard Randy move then and when Justin opened his eyes, Randy was close, in his face and his eyes were bright.

"Fuck you, Gabriel. You were my best friend. I told you about Mom first because she considered you a part of our family. I watched my mom waste away and I walked in to find Adam dead and you believed Mike when he said I did it."

"You were guilty," Justin said, a little desperately. "I saw it." He'd seen in it in Randy's eyes that night on the football field.

"I'm still guilty. I should have stopped it. I saw it happen before but I didn't get that it actually would happen. I thought they were just nightmares. I didn't know…"

Justin shook his head. He couldn't consider it. Couldn't. He'd believed it on that football field and he'd beaten the crap out of Randy for it, put him in the hospital even. If Randy was innocent, that meant that he'd put his best friend in the hospital for no reason, that he'd betrayed him…

"You accused me, been doing it since it happened. You spread it around town-"

"I didn't spread anything," Justin cut him off immediately.

"Now who's lying?" Randy's glare intensified.

"I didn't," Justin insisted. He was telling the truth. He'd been so horrified at what he'd believed Randy had done and then even more so at what he'd done to Randy after graduation that he hadn't spoken to anyone for weeks afterwards.

He had never protested when people had thought he'd spread it around. The rumor that Randy had killed Adam because he didn't want to come out when Adam did and that Randy had known details of what had happened to Adam but it hadn't been him.

"It doesn't even matter," Randy said after a moment. His voice had turned flat, emotionless. "Just…leave me the fuck alone, Justin." He stood and then walked away, leaving Justin to stare after him.

Justin supposed he was right. It really didn't matter anymore. He knew who had spread the rumors. There were only three people who had known about Randy's insight into what had happened to Adam. He was one of them. Trish was another and even though he hadn't been friends with Trish for a long time, he still knew that she would never do anything to hurt Randy.

Then, of course, there was Mike. Mike had been the most adamant in his belief that Randy was guilty. He had tried to convince everyone of it. Justin knew that he was the one who had taken steps to assure that the entire town believed Randy was guilty.

Mike had never harassed Randy but, even though Justin was louder about it, he knew that there was no one in town who hated Randy more than Mike.


	8. Good Day

This chapter is completely devoted to John and Randy. Thought I could do one like this, where they spend some time together, get to know each other a little better. It's mostly fluff but seeing as how the rest of this story has been so angsty, I figured they needed it.

The song is by Nappy Roots and I don't own it.

Xxxxxxxxx

"Who are you talking to?" Randy asked distractedly, his gaze trained on the television screen as he maneuvered his soldier through the snow.

"Friend from college. We played ball together."

"Ah." He paused and then, "Dammit." John glanced up at the screen. It had gone red and the tiny background voices were urging Randy to take cover.

"I can't take cover if I can't_ see_ anything," Randy told the screen with a scowl.

John snorted in amusement.

"Why does the entire screen go red after you get hit once?" Randy asked, frustration leaking into his voice.

"It's supposed to make it more challenging and realistic," John answered, idly answering a text.

"Right."

John had brought his game system over and a few games. Randy was sitting with his back against the armrest of the couch, his long legs stretched across John's lap. John had one hand resting on his ankle.

"Okay, what am I doing wrong?" Randy spoke up again, finally turning his head away from the screen.

"You picked up a gun," John said immediately. He'd been splitting his attention between his phone and the screen.

Randy frowned at him. "Huh?"

"You need a silenced gun to get through this part," John explained. "If you pick up a gun off the ground, it'll replace the one they provided. It won't be silenced so as soon as you shoot…"

"Oh…" Randy grumbled a little but he did restart.

"You really never played video games as a kid?" John asked curiously.

Randy shook his head. "My mom raised me by herself and we never had too much money. My dad died when she was pregnant with me." He paused, a frown forming on his face. "His dad was into wrestling…"

John turned his full attention to Randy, really interested. They hadn't spoken too much about personal things yet. "Was he any good? That's an Olympic sport, isn't it?"

Randy turned an amused smile on John. "Not that kind of wrestling."

"Oh, _that _kind of wrestling. I watched that when I was younger. WWF, right?" John put on the best body builder pose he could manage sitting down and was rewarded with a chuckle from Randy.

"Yeah. Anyway, my dad had this idea that he wanted to follow in his dad's footsteps. He almost made it too. Had the contract signed and everything. Even performed a few live shows."

"So, what happened?"

"Car crashed on the way home from one of those shows."

"Sorry," John said with a wince.

Randy shrugged. "I never met him. I did get to see him perform though. Mom went to most of the shows and she taped them." He smiled, his gaze wondering a moment. "What about your family?"

"My family…I still keep in touch every now and then. My parents were real traditionalists, though. They weren't real happy when I told them I wouldn't be marrying a nice girl and settle down to have kids."

"Sorry."

John shrugged this time. "It's okay. We're okay now. It took a while but they've mostly come around. After I got injured I stayed with them for a while before coming here. I hadn't spoken to them for a long time before that but I think we've patched things up."

"That's good." Randy turned his gaze back to the screen and groaned when the screen went red again a few moments later. "John, one of the first things I tell you about myself is that I hate war movies so you bring me a war game?"

John rolled his eyes and took the controller. "Quit bitching. I know you were getting into it." He pushed Randy's legs off him and went to turn the system off. "So…you still got those tapes of your dad?"

"Yeah…"

"Think we could watch them?"

Randy's eyes brightened immediately and the smile on his face was, at least in John's view, absolutely beautiful.

Xxxxxxxxx

"Did you ever think about getting into this?" John asked, eyes trained on the screen, on Randy's father.

"Naw," Randy answered with a wave of his hand. "I never really thought about it. I was planning on moving to the city with Adam after I graduated-" He cut himself off and his mood darkened considerably as soon as the words left his mouth.

John grimaced. "Sorry."

Randy shrugged but the dark look in his eyes didn't immediately leave. John searched for something to say. As far as he could see, Randy hadn't had the easiest life.

"I've known since I was eleven that I wanted to play football," John revealed, diverting the subject from Randy's past to his own. Randy relaxed considerably.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Sports was always something I liked. I played baseball too, at least up until high school."

Randy smiled. "I always liked basketball myself."

"Basketball, huh?" John surveyed him. "Guess you're tall enough."

Randy grinned and nodded. "I was good at it too."

"I bet you were."

Xxxxxxxxx

"Come on, just try it. You might like it," John said from the CD player after putting his in.

Randy watched him dubiously. "I've never been a fan of rap…"

"But this song is so good…It's real upbeat. I love it."

"Fine." Randy waved a hand for him to play it. He tilted his head when the song begun.

"_We're gonna have a good day_

_And all my homies gonna ride today_

_And all these mommies look fly today_

_And all we wanna do is get by today_

_Hey...we're gonna have a good day_

_And ain't nobody gotta cry today_

_Cause ain't nobody gonna die today_

_Save that drama for another day_

_Hey...we're gonna have a good day." _

Okay, so Randy may have smiled a little bit as he listened to the song. John grinned and pulled Randy to his feet by his wrist. Randy couldn't help it. He laughed, and followed John's lead when the man pulled him into a dance. He followed the songs suggestions and pushed all his problems away for the moment.

John led, even going so far as to spin him a couple of times. They were small ones seeing as Randy's living room wasn't exactly large but still…

"What do you think I am? The girl in this?"

John grinned. "Hey, you said it, not me."

A smirk formed on Randy's face. "Believe me, Cena. There is nothing girly about me." He stopped the dance, got into John's personal space.

"Really?"

Randy brought John's hand down, to the hardness in his pants while, at the same time, doing the same for John with his own hand.

"Really," he said before leaning forward to kiss John. He grinned at the sound John made when Randy slipped his hand inside John's pants and wrapped his fingers around him. He unbuttoned John's pants with his other hand, and slid both John's jeans and boxers down his hips until they pooled at his feet.

Randy expertly tugged at John's most sensitive skin as he led the man towards the bedroom.

Xxxxxxxx

"My brothers and I used to get into all sorts of trouble. I've always been a little hyper. Never been able to really sit still for long periods of time. It's why I liked sports so much, I guess."

Randy rested his chin on John's chest and traced circles with one finger on while he listened to John speak with a tiny smile on his face. It was late but he didn't want to sleep. It had been a good day, one of his best in a long time. He needed more days of like this one. Tomorrow he'd have to go back to work, he'd have to deal with all the people again.

At least Justin seemed to be leaving him alone since what had happened with that mugger. But Justin wasn't the only one who looked at him like he was monster and he didn't want to get out of the bed with John to deal with that again. He hadn't even noticed that his smile had turned into a frown until John spoke.

"You thinkin' bad thoughts?"

Randy looked up at him. "No…maybe. I'm just…this is nice. I don't want it to end."

"Yeah. Me either."

"But it will. You'll have to go home tomorrow and I'll have to go to work. Mike's gonna be pissed when he finds out about this."

"He might not be." John sounded hopeful. Randy knew not to be.

"He will be. He hates me." His mood dropped as the words left his mouth.

"Hey." John turned them so that he was hovering over Randy. "How about we worry about that tomorrow? Alright?"

"Yeah…yeah, sorry," Randy said, suddenly feeling guilty for bringing the mood down.

"Don't be sorry." John kissed him then and Randy made an effort not to worry about things he couldn't change.

Xxxxxxxx

The game they were playing was Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. The mistake with the gun was something I did the first time I played it…it was frustrating as hell…

Also, seeing as John is so into rap, I put that song in. I don't listen to a whole lot of rap but I do like some of it and Good Day is probably one of my favorite rap songs and I kind of thought it fit this chapter.


	9. Doubt

John still had a smile on his face when he made it home. The morning had been just as good as the day before. Waking up next to Randy was definitely something he could get used to. He'd had fun with Randy. He'd completely forgotten about his problems and simply had fun.

Randy was fun to be around when he relaxed. Although, John got why that was hardly ever an option. Even when he couldn't relax, John simply liked being around him. He liked Randy and he knew it was going to cause problems, specifically between he and Mike but he just couldn't worry about it right then.

"Hey, buddy," he called to Mike when he found his friend sitting on the couch in the living room.

"Hey."

John completely missed the strange look on Mike's face as he walked towards his room.

Xxxxxxxx

"You're distracted. What's up?" Trish asked the question as soon as she got the last customer out and closed the doors. She leaned on the bar as Randy cleaned up behind it.

"I'm not distracted," he protested automatically but he didn't meet her gaze as he said it.

"Uh huh." Trish eyed him skeptically. After a minute he looked up at her.

"Are you going to actually help me close up?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Maybe. After you tell me what's bothering you." She paused, a frown forming. "I haven't seen Justin and his buddies in here in a while. Are they-"

"I haven't seen Justin for a while," he interrupted. "He's been leaving me alone."

"Huh. Wonders never cease, I guess." She picked up a rag and began wiping down the counter. "So, if it's not Justin or any of the other customers, why are you brooding?"

"I'm not brooding," he protested, shooting her a scowl. "I don't brood."

"Sure you don't." She stopped cleaning, leaned towards him. "Come on, Randy. What's going on with you?" There was genuine concern coloring her voice and she could see it when he gave in.

"I slept with John Cena," he blurted out before abruptly turning his back on her.

Trish's jaw literally dropped and she stared at him for several seconds, unable to form words. The shock only lasted a minute, though, before a warm sense of relief spread through her. She'd seen them flirting and she'd known Randy had liked the guy…

"That's great!" She finally got out.

"Please don't say that." Randy turned to face her again and leaned against the back of the bar.

"But…it is, isn't it? I mean, if you guys got together, it obviously means he doesn't believe the bullshit Justin spread about you-"

"Justin didn't spread it," he cut her off again.

"What?"

Randy walked closer, braced his hands on the bar. "The details of what happened back then, the rumor that it was me…Justin didn't spread that stuff."

"How do you know that?" Trish asked tentatively.

"He told me," Randy answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

"And you believe him?" Trish's voice turned incredulous. She had been friends with Justin in high school too and she never would have believed he could do something like that back then but she had learned since just what Justin Gabriel was capable of.

"Yeah, I did." There was no doubt in Randy's voice but it was also flat. It was like he was stating facts.

"Right." Trish really tried to wrap her head around that. "Did something happen between you and Justin?" Because it kind of fit. Randy's newfound conviction, the fact that Justin hadn't been around.

"It doesn't matter."

Trish studied him. She could probably press him about it and get an answer. She was a big believer in that. Sometimes, it was the only way she could get Randy to talk to her. And she figured it was better than him bottling all the shit up and ending up self destructing. She'd seen that before and she didn't want to go down that road again.

She could press him about it, or she could get back on their original topic.

"You're right. What matters is this thing with John Cena and why you wouldn't think it was a good thing."

"Come on, Trish." He pushed off the bar. "Do you really need to ask that question?" He started towards the back to grab the broom and dustpan.

Trish followed. "Obviously. Look, I know it's been a while but if he believes you, if he likes you…"

"Then what? It'll make up for the fact that he's still living with Mike?" Randy asked skeptically. "You have any idea how pissed Mike is going to be when he finds out?"

"Thought you didn't care about what Mike thought of you anymore?"

Randy glared at her. "I don't but John will. They've been friends since they were kids, Trish. They knew each other before Mike moved here."

"But maybe they can work it out," Trish suggested.

"Yeah, sure they could." Sarcasm rang heavily in his voice and he stopped right in front of her. "You know that's not going to happen. You know this isn't going to end well."

"I don't, actually. And you shouldn't automatically assume."

"I-" Randy cut himself off this time and he blinked. The broom dropped from his hand at the very sudden shot of pain that ran through his head. It felt like someone had kicked him in the head and he grimaced, brought a hand up to press it against his forehead.

"Randy?" Trish asked, worry entering her tone.

He started to shake his head but thought better of it when the pain came again, fast and strong. It began to ratchet up further, building to migraine status faster than it ever had before, made him feel like someone was trying to split his skull with a dull knife.

He had to squeeze his eyes shut as the room spun and pain built to agony. Blinding, deafening agony that made his knees buckle and his stomach roll. Trish had caught him before his head hit the ground, supported his upper half but he managed to move away from her and, on his hands and knees, he retched until involuntary tears dripped onto the floor as well.

The images were disjointed and fuzzy, even more so than usual. He couldn't think, let alone attempt to make sense of them. He couldn't think past the agony pounding through his skull.

It was only when the pain began to ease up some that he realized Trish had pulled him so that he was resting against her, and away from the mess he'd made on the floor. His hands were shaking when the pounding lessoned enough so that he could open his eyes.

"You alright?" Trish asked.

"Fine." Randy pulled away from her. The headache hadn't completely gone away. It wouldn't for a few hours, but at least it was just a headache and not a migraine.

"Maybe you shouldn't be doing that," she suggested when he struggled to his feet. He had to brace himself on one of the barstools when vertigo hit after standing so abruptly.

"I have to go," he said, dazed.

"What? No way. You need to lie down. Come on, you can go back to Shawn's office."

Randy shook his head, closed his eyes. "No, I have to leave."

"You can deal with it later," Trish insisted, coming to stand beside him.

"Trish," he choked out, reaching for her when the pain spiked again, even faster this time, going from zero to sixty in the second it had taken to get her name past his lips. The world went away again.

Xxxxxxxx

Trish struggled to keep Randy up off the floor. He had a foot on her and over a hundred pounds. She did, however, at least manage to keep him from bouncing his head off any hard objects, including the floor, when he collapsed for the second time.

She chewed her lip until it bled, holding him as close as she could. She hated this and her worry was beginning to build into panic. She'd never seen him have two right in a row. Finally, after what seemed like hours to her, his muscles relaxed and he went limp against her.

She did panic when she saw the blood running from his nose.


	10. Terror

Randy lay in the center of his bed, curled up. He'd finally gone to sleep after Trish had gotten him home. He'd been so out of it at the bar that she'd almost taken him to the emergency room instead. That would have been a waste, though. He'd been to the hospital before for the migraines. In fact, both she and Shawn had badgered him into going on separate occasions. It simply wasn't something that could be fixed at the hospital.

Still, she was more worried than she had ever been about them. She'd never seen them get so bad before and she hated to see him in so much pain. She only left his side when someone knocked on the door. Shawn had said he might come over to check on Randy later…

When she opened the door, however, John Cena was standing there.

"Uh, hi," he said, only mildly surprised that she had answered the door instead of Randy. After all, she had told him that she and Randy were close.

"Hi." Trish didn't open the door wider, didn't invite him in, at least not right away. She was unsure if she should. He wouldn't know about what these headaches really meant for Randy and if he had another one in front of John, the man would probably freak.

"I never did introduce myself when we talked earlier, did I?" John asked with a smile, seemingly unconcerned about her indecision.

"No, but I do know who you are," she answered, unable to help but to smile herself. She'd only met him once but she already liked him, just by the way that Randy had described him. She held out a hand for him to shake.

"Trish Stratus."

"John Cena." His smile widened as he clasped her hand and shook it. "So, you gonna let me in, Trish?"

She sighed, hesitated, and then opened the door wider, stepping aside so that he could come in. "He's sleeping right now," Trish told him before she closed the door. "It is late. What are you doing here?"

"I was supposed to meet him after he got off work," John explained with a shrug. "I don't have a job myself so I don't really have a bedtime."

"Right. Well, he had a pretty bad headache at work."

"Migraine?" John asked, sympathy in his eyes. "He told me he gets them sometimes."

Trish blinked in surprise before she nodded. "Yeah and the only thing he can really do for them is lock himself away in a dark room and wait it out."

John nodded in understanding. "My mom used to get them pretty bad. I remember how sick they made her."

"If you want to go in there, you can," Trish offered after a moment. "Just…don't wake him up."

"I won't," John promised before making his way into the room. Randy was curled up in the bed, sound asleep. As quietly as possible, John took off his shoes and his jacket before climbing into bed behind Randy and wrapping his arms around the man.

Xxxxxxxx

Randy stared at the wall of his bedroom. He'd been awake for at least half an hour, still trying to make sense of his dreams. The pain in his head had lessoned to a dull ache and he'd woken up with one of John's arms thrown over him.

He knew, after analyzing what he'd seen first, who it was about. It was unmistakable. The second one was just as easy to figure out, and had been his most painful one yet. He knew there was a gun involved. He remembered that much.

Usually, he was watching from the outside. Like the one he'd had about Adam before he'd died. He'd seen what had happened to Adam, like he was standing off to the side as it happened. This new one had been completely different.

He hadn't been standing off to the side; he'd been looking down the barrel of a shotgun himself. It was a first. He'd never had a vision of himself in danger but he guessed there was a first time for everything.

As silently and gently as possible, he extracted himself from John's grip and stood up. First thing first, he had to stop the first vision.

Xxxxxxx

Justin Gabriel did look very surprised when he opened the door and saw Randy standing there. "What the hell do you want?" He asked, his surprise turning to anger. "I've left you alone-"

"You have to get out of here," Randy interrupted, shoving past Justin so that he could get into the house.

"What?"

"Look, I know you never believed me when I told you what I see sometimes but I need you to believe me now, Justin," Randy said in a rush. He'd already wasted enough time wallowing in his own pain. These visions had a sense of urgency to them that none of his others had.

"What are you talking about? You had another one…of me?" The anger had died in Justin's tone.

"Yes."

"What is it?" Justin asked, his face a little pale.

Randy stilled, studied his former best friend. "So, you believe me now?"

"What is it?" Justin repeated, answering the question with the fear in his eyes.

"I saw a shotgun…"

Justin let out a breath. "Alright." He paused, seemed to gather himself. "I'm coming with you."

"No! You need to stay away from me too, Justin. Just…get out of town for a while."

"Why?" Justin frowned at him, took a step closer. "You had one of yourself too, didn't you? Whoever's comin' after me…they're comin' after you too?"

"It doesn't matter. Just…go, Justin." Randy started towards the door again. Justin only hesitated a second before he locked Randy's path.

"No. This isn't up for debate. I'm coming with you."

Xxxxxxx

The pounding on Randy's door is what woke John up. He gave a start at how loud it was, and then at the fact that he was alone in Randy's bed. John groaned at the persistence of whoever was at the door and rolled to his feet.

He noted as he passed through the living room that Trish had left before he jerked the door open.

"Mike?" He frowned at the sight of his friend.

"Where is he?" Mike practically growled, shoving past John and into the apartment. John turned to him, his natural reaction one of worry about Mike's to what had been going on between John and Randy. His thoughts stopped in their tracks, however, when he caught sight of what Mike was holding in one of his hands.

Xxxxxxx

Justin had had a great deal of time to think…and to feel guilty. As soon as he had let himself believe that Randy really was innocent, the guilt had nearly been suffocating. He had beaten up, and terrorized his best friend for nothing.

It was that guilt that had him insisting on going with Randy when he'd shown up on Justin's porch with a warning about not only Justin's death but his own as well.

"What are we doing here?" He asked when he followed Randy up to his apartment. "Shouldn't we be going someplace where whoever this is won't find us?"

"I need to talk to someone else," Randy said, opening his door and heading inside. Justin reluctantly followed him in. There was no one in Randy's living room but a few moments after Justin had shut the front door, the bedroom door opened and John Cena was pushed forcefully out.

Justin's eyes widened and shocked terror rose in his chest when Mike followed him out, a shotgun gripped tightly in his hands.


	11. Mike

Just a warning…this chapter has some pretty graphic violence in it.

Xxxxxxx

When Mike Mizanon was sixteen years old, he found out what the true meaning of love was. Well, at least his kind of love. Which some people might have called obsession but Mike was never one to care what other people thought of him, at least not up until he met Adam Copeland.

High school was an eye opening experience for Mike. He learned about obsession and he learned about betrayal. When he had moved, his greatest worry had been losing touch with John. John was his best friend and Mike had fought tooth and nail against his parents about the move. He was so sure that he would die without John there every day.

John had been his first friend, his best friend. If Mike had ever gone to see a psychiatrist, he might have been told that his parent's detached neglect during his childhood could have accounted for his later clinginess. But Mike had also never been one to overanalyze his own actions.

His depression over the prospect of losing John had only been lessened by meeting Adam. He became instantly attached to the other boy. Adam was funny and smart and so damned beautiful. Mike loved him from day one.

He kept his feelings to himself, cultivating a friendship with Adam first. A friendship that he had cherished the same way he had with John. He was sure that he and Adam were meant to be together, that it would happen no matter what.

So, he was both surprised and devastated when he caught Adam in the arms of another boy. Mike had clenched his fists so hard, his nails had dug into his skin while he watched Randy Orton kiss Adam, while he watched Randy's hands roam to places they weren't meant to go.

That was the start of his hatred for Randy. It simmered beneath the surface every time he looked into the other boy's gray eyes. Randy was touching things that didn't belong to him. Mike hated him for it.

However, he was still convinced that he and Adam could overcome this. Randy was just a minor obstacle. One that wouldn't matter in the long run. Finally, Mike got up the courage to tell Adam all of this, and that was when it had all went to Hell. That was when he'd made the mistake.

Adam had pushed him away, told him that he loved Randy, told him that they were planning on coming out after graduation. Mike had lost himself then. All he could see was Randy's hands trailing over Adam's abdomen, all he could feel was hatred towards him, anger towards Adam for not seeing the truth.

He didn't remember it afterwards. One minute, he was listening to Adam tell him how much he loved Randy, the next he was standing over Adam's body, a bloody kitchen knife in one shaking hand.

He hadn't dropped the knife until he had gotten home. The fact that it was nearing three o'clock in the morning was probably the only reason he had gotten home without someone seeing it or the blood staining his shirt.

He'd puked until he had nothing left…and then he'd cleaned himself up, burned his clothes and got rid of the knife. All the while, he was convincing himself that it was all Randy's fault. If Randy hadn't taken things he shouldn't have, if he hadn't forced Adam into something that wasn't good for him, none of this would have happened.

He ignored the tiny little voice in his head that accused him. Ignored the visions of himself covered in Adam's blood with that knife in his hand.

It was easy to convince everyone else too. Even Justin, Randy's best friend, believed it. It had to be Randy's fault. Adam was dead because of Randy. Everyone had to know that. And they did. Finally, everyone saw Randy for what he really was.

Mike found himself being happy again when John called him. John had been injured on the field, John couldn't play anymore. Mike had convinced him to come live with him.

He was happy, until he caught John coming out of Randy's apartment with a smile on his face. As soon as he saw it, that simmering anger boiled over into the same rage that had caused the death of Adam Copeland.

The hatred came back. This time, though, Mike wouldn't make any mistakes. This time, Mike would do what he should have done the first time around. He would make the person guilty pay.

Xxxxxxxx

For a full minute, Randy stopped breathing. He and Justin stood side by side, staring in horror at Mike and John. John's blue eyes were wide as well, the shock on his face clear.

"Mike-"

"Shut up!" Mike yelled. "I know what you did." He swung the shotgun up, holding it steady and pointed at Randy's chest. "This is your fault."

"Mike, don't." John's voice was pleading. "I didn't do anything, alright?" 

"Don't lie, John. I know. I know how he is. He did the same with Adam…"

"You killed Adam." Justin choked the words out.

"No, he did!" Mike jabbed the barrel of the gun towards Randy. There were unshed tears in his eyes. "You took him away from me and now you're doing it again."

John took a cautious step towards him. "Mike, he's not-"

This time, Mike cut him off by swinging the gun around, connecting the butt to the side of John's head. Randy cried out as John fell and ran to his side. Tears stung his eyes as he put his hands on the sides of John's face. He was unconscious, of course. When Randy looked up, he found himself staring down the barrel of the shotgun again.

"Get up," Mike ordered in a barely controlled voice.

"You hurt him," Randy said, although he did comply with Mike's wishes, standing and moving away from John. If Mike did decide to shoot, he didn't want John to get hit.

"Shut up."

"You killed Adam." Randy was hardly able to control his voice as well.

"No, you did!"

"I'm not the one who took a knife to his chest," Randy countered. "I'm not the one who stabbed him nine times. I'm not the one who knocked John out!"

"Shut up!" Mike yelled. A few tears did escape and Randy saw the brief flash of guilt in his eyes. Mike had had seven years to pull the trigger on him. Randy was hoping that meant that he wouldn't.

"You murdered Adam. You killed someone you loved. It wasn't me."

"Stop."

"Adam's blood is on your hands, Mike! I hate you for it! I hope he does too!"

"John'll hate you too," Justin spoke up suddenly. He stepped up beside Randy. "Everyone will hate you. Like they hated Randy. No matter what you do now, everyone will know and everyone will hate you for it."

Randy could see the moment when Mike faltered. Mike's eyes went blank then and he turned his gaze briefly on John before fixing it back on Randy.

"You're right."

He turned his back on Randy and Justin and before either man could react, flipped the shotgun so that it was pointed at his own chest and pulled the trigger. The recoil caused him to lose his grip on it and the barrel swung upwards as it went off. Unfortunately, it didn't swing up enough to miss Mike completely.

Instead of hitting him in the chest, he took the shot in the face. Mike's head disappeared in a spray of blood and brain. Randy and Justin both flinched violently when they were splattered with the mess.

Justin's knees immediately gave out and he sat on the floor, his own eyes going blank. His arms went to wrap around his stomach and he began to rock backwards and forth.

Randy fell to his knees and retched until he was dry heaving. He couldn't stop and couldn't suck in a breath. Black invaded his vision while his stomach continued to rebel. His arms trembled violently in their effort to hold him up.

Finally, he collapsed, right into the mess he'd made. The last thing he saw before the world went dark on him was the bloody mess where Mike's head used to be.


	12. Hope

This is the last chapter of this one. Hope you guys like it. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story!

Xxxxxxxx

John almost-_almost-_smiled when he opened the door to the hotel room and found Randy sleeping in the large bed. Randy hadn't slept for days, not since he'd woken up in the hospital and John knew just how exhausted he was.

He'd stayed with John until he'd been cleared to leave the hospital. He'd come in with a concussion but at least it hadn't been too serious. On the day he'd been released, he'd found Randy beside Justin's bed, who had still been unresponsive, in shock, he guessed.

John used to think the worst week of his life was before he'd moved. He used to think it had been when he'd taken a bad hit on the football field. He'd lain there, unable to move for several minutes, in utter terror that the hit had paralyzed him. It hadn't but the following few days, when he'd learned that he'd never be able to play again had set him adrift in a way he'd never been, even when his parents had cut off contact when he'd come out.

He was wrong. As terrible as that week had been, it was nothing compared to the week he had just gone through. Waking up in the hospital to a concussion and gaining the knowledge that not only had Mike killed himself but that he had also killed another person…watching Randy scratch at his own skin to get off blood that had already been washed away, Randy clutching him as he sobbed for everything he had seen over his life. Even seeing Justin's blank eyes…

And Mike…John could only think of him with a sense of surrealness and soul deep sorrow. Mike had been his best friend in grade school. Mike had kept in touch with him all throughout high school and his career. Mike had been the supportive one, the comforting one when he'd lost his career.

John sat on the bed next to Randy, watching him sleep. He couldn't connect the two people. The friend who had always been there for him when John needed him and the guy who had caused Randy and his friends so much pain.

Trish and a couple others-Shawn and Cody, John had learned was their names-had come by after John had gotten the hotel room. He'd gotten it as soon as he'd been released from the hospital with the sure knowledge that, even if they'd somehow managed to get the blood out of Randy's carpets, that he'd never go back to that apartment again.

And John…he couldn't go back to the house either, at least not yet. He would, to get his things out but that would be it. He couldn't fathom staying there any longer.

After a moment, John lay down on the bed and rolled so that he could wrap his arms around Randy. Nothing would ever be the same again. He was sure of that.

Xxxxxxxxx

"Are you sure about this?" John asked solemnly, setting one of his bags down just outside the door of the house. Randy was sitting on the steps of the porch, one of John's oversized hoodies engulfing his smaller frame. It was still pretty warm outside but Randy had been a little sick, probably due to the lack of sleep.

"I can't stay here anymore," Randy replied, turning to look at John. "You don't have to come with me," he said quietly.

John shrugged, glanced back at the house. "I can't stay here either." He went back inside, glancing around the place to make sure he'd gotten everything. He stopped on his way to his room at the open door of Mike's.

Mike had always been a bit of a neat freak and everything was orderly in there. He wondered where it would all go. Mike's parents had been called but John had avoided seeing them. He'd never cared for Mike's parents, who hadn't cared much for their son. He wondered if they'd take it all with them when they went back to their home or if they'd just sell it all…

Xxxxxxxxx

He should probably be helping John. At least, that's what Randy thought but he couldn't even force himself to go inside, just like he hadn't been able to go inside his apartment. He'd tried, after. Someone had suggested that it might help him deal but he couldn't.

He hadn't slept much at all, too afraid of the nightmares. Too sick with his newly gained knowledge. He'd always wanted to know who had killed Adam. The dreams he'd had before Adam's death, which at the time he'd thought were only dreams, had never given him a clue as to the killer.

Maybe he should have known. At least, that was the thought that kept repeating in his head. He and Mike were friends in high school. Maybe he should have known something was wrong then. But he and Mike had never been as close as he and Justin, definitely not as close as he was with Adam.

And John…John had surprised him by staying. Randy had expected him to leave after he'd been discharged from the hospital. Maybe he'd even expected blame. Randy's gut sure had been twisted up with guilt since. He'd never hated his little ability more than he did then.

Randy was pulled from his thoughts with the sound of a car parking in the drive and he looked up in time to see Justin getting out of the driver's side. Justin walked hesitantly closer to him and Randy got a good look at his face. There were bags under his eyes that matched the ones under Randy's and he looked even thinner than the last time Randy had seen him.

"Hey." Justin stopped about a foot from him but Randy did not get up.

"What are you doing here?" His voice sounded hoarse in his ears, strained.

"I just…I wanted to tell you I'm leaving…"

Randy glanced behind himself, to the still open door of the house. "Yeah. Me too."

Justin nodded. He blinked a few times and Randy was sure that he might start crying. Before, Randy had only ever seen Justin cry a couple of times, only once after they'd made it into their teenage years. Since Mike…he'd seen it too many times.

"I'm sorry, Randy," Justin finally said quietly, the sincerity in his voice clear.

"I know." Randy let out a sigh. "But it's not enough." It didn't erase the past seven years. It didn't erase what had happened on the high school football field after graduation.

"I know." Justin paused, chewed his lip. "But I am." He glanced behind Randy as John came back out to the door. "Hope you're happy, wherever you go. See you around." He turned at that and went back to his car.

Unexpectedly, the sense of loss in Randy grew even greater. He was positive, in that moment, that he would never see Justin again. John sat down beside him and they both watched Justin drive away.

"You okay?" John asked, and the question was about Justin, nothing else.

"Not really," Randy answered. "You sure you want to come with me?" He'd already asked, he just needed to be sure.

"I'm sure."

"There are still things you don't know about me…"

And that was probably true. God knew there were things about him that Randy didn't know. They hadn't spent nearly enough time together. Still, even with how horrible the last two weeks had been, he couldn't bring himself to leave the one good thing that had come out of it.

"It's okay. We got time."

They both looked up when another car drove up and Randy did stand this time. Trish, Cody, and Shawn got out and John watched from the steps as Randy pulled Trish into a hug.

Xxxxxxx

Randy watched the road from the passenger seat of John's car. Maybe he was running but it didn't feel like running. He was finally going to the city and maybe it was what he needed. Maybe it was what he should have done when he'd graduated like he'd planned.

And John was with him. John was willing to see where what they had went. The horror of what he'd seen was still there, and he and John still didn't know everything about each other. He hadn't told John about what he saw sometimes.

But John was right. They had time. He'd only ever told two people about them but maybe he would tell John someday. Maybe John would leave when he did find out but John had stuck with him even after everything that had gone down in the past couple of weeks.

They weren't aright. Maybe they'd never be but he had to hope.

Xxxxxxxxx

So, I've been planning on ending this story like this from pretty much the beginning. Writing it out was harder. I know it's just a little bit open ended but, hey, I always liked leaving stories just a little open.


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